


i don't want to be your friend (i want to kiss your lips)

by wingedgods



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, One Shot, we stan a good height difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedgods/pseuds/wingedgods
Summary: It’s a Tuesday morning when Michelle kisses Clare.
Relationships: Clare Devlin/Michelle Mallon
Comments: 15
Kudos: 150





	i don't want to be your friend (i want to kiss your lips)

It’s a Tuesday morning when Michelle kisses Clare. It’s a soft peck on the top of the head, then an elbow balanced on her shoulder before she starts swearing up and down about something new. Clare can’t stop the blush from spreading and she prays that everyone just thinks her cheeks are red from the biting wind. Michelle leans against her, talking a mile a minute in the general direction of Erin, Orla, and James. Clare doesn’t need to listen to know its some mix of teenage angst and slagging off James. Instead, Clare studies everyone’s faces, who are all looking at Michelle with fond irritation. 

No one noticed this new development. No one saw glossy lips touch blonde hair and Claire wants so badly to reach up and feel for anything to prove it had happened, that glossy lips had touched blonde hair. Instead, Clare looks up at Michelle, who is flipping off an outraged Erin. Clare resists the urge to lick her lips, resists the urge to reach up and run a finger along Michelle’s bottom lip. 

“Clare, you look funny.” Clare sputters, hating Orla for bringing everyone’s attention to her. 

“She looks alright to me.” Michelle says smirking down at Clare. 

“No, she definitely looks funny.” Orla insists, as the bus drives up. Michelle’s elbow leaves Clare’s shoulder, fingers trail down her spine. Clare shivers. Orla has already pushed ahead, with Erin and James close behind. Clare follows behind Michelle, who stops at the top step of the bus to turn and wink. Clare’s mouth goes dry. She sits next to Michelle, who is leaning over the seat in front of them, pushing into Erin and James’s personal space. Clare should be listening, should be hearing what stupid stunt Michelle is planning that she’ll inevitably be dragged into.

Instead, Clare stares at Michelle’s chin, as it rests against her forearms. She watches the movements of Michelle’s mouth, the shine of her gloss from this particular angle. She thinks about how Michelle dances in an out of her personal space, how she’s always leaning, always touching, always close. Her fingers flex with the need to touch, and she’s done. She reaches out, grasping at Michelle’s elbow and pulls. Michelle falls back, hitting the seat, looking scandalized. 

“What the fuck Clare?” Erin and James are laughing, thinking it a prank. Michelle is staring at Clare annoyed and it's Clare’s turn to wink. Michelle huffs before turning back around and continuing her conversation with Erin and James. She stays leaning back though, moves her legs against Clare’s, and Clare keeps her fingers against Michelle, fingertips along her skirt. Michelle keeps glancing over at her, keeping Clare in her periphery. Claire just grins, and waits. 

~

Clare doesn’t touch back. Usually.

Years of friendship, of using Claire as her official armrest had granted Michelle certain liberties. Michelle was allowed in, allowed to casually touch in away that no one else did. Others tried. Erin and Orla were allowed hugs and the occasional touch. Michelle often wondered what James and Clare did when they ran off together, but it definitely did not involve much touching. 

People outside them though-- They were met with flinches, with that anxious “I’m gonna shit myself” face. Michelle knew Clare enjoyed her space, enjoyed a set boundary. She knew she should ask more, respect more, but she wants so badly to touch, to see Clare look up at her through her eyelashes. Michelle can’t explain it, doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand why her mouth goes dry every time she remembers just how small Clare is, that feeling in the pit of her stomach every time Claire has to tilt her head up to look Michelle in the eye.

The thing is though…. Well the thing is, Clare has started to touch back. It started with a lean, moving towards Michelle everytime Michelle was brave enough to reach out. She’d lean her entire body against Michelle’s side and Michelle began to crave it, crave Clare’s response. Then she began to reach out, pulling on Michelle’s elbow, hands against Michelle’s lower back rushing her to the next class. And fuck if Michelle doesn’t love it, doesn’t get a rush from those small hands pushing her around.

They’re in class. Sister Michael is talking some shit or other. Clare is in the desk in front of Michelle, crouched over, obsessively taking notes in her teeny tiny handwriting. Michelle stares at her neck, thinks about running her fingers against it, making Clare shiver. Instead, she extends her legs and manages to stretch enough to gently kick the bottom of Clare’s seat. Clare looks back briefly enough to glare-well a Clare glare which is more of a cranky squint. She turns back before Michelle can wink at her. But she sits up a bit, swings her legs back and tucks her feet under the seat, brushing them against Michelle. She doesn’t turn back around, doesn’t move as Michelle gently presses her toes against Claire’s ankle and drags them up and down. She just scoots up further in her seat, moving her feet back even further, and keeps jotting down notes in her teeny tiny handwriting. 

When class ends, they both hesitate before standing up.

“I can’t believe we have another exam. Honestly, this is a human rights violation, they can’t treat us like this.” Erin’s whining brings Michelle back to reality, and she blinks at Erin’s indignant face. 

“What?” 

“Honestly Michelle don’t you ever pay attention?” Erin flounces off, James at her heels. Orla follows them, asking Erin inane questions that only Orla could make up. Claire stands up. 

“Come on Michelle.” She holds out her hand, and Michelle lets Clare pull her up out of seat, holding onto Clare’s hand a beat too long. Claire squeezes it and pulls. Michelle hesitates, watches her walk away. Clare stops, reaches back for Michelle and pulls again. “Come ON Michelle.” She drags Michelle behind her and Michelle resists the urge to drop to her knees and promise absolutely everything to Clare. 

\----  
Michelle shows up at Clare’s house with a bottle of nicked communion wine. Clare hisses outraged as she ushers Michelle in. 

“Michelle I can’t believe-” Michelle doesn’t let her finish, just takes a long pull for the bottle before offering over. When it’s just them two, alone in Clare’s room, Clare huffs and whines, but she also let her fingers run against Michelle’s. She doesn’t let Michelle drop the bottle, but glides it over to her mouth for her to sip. Michelle is flushed and smirking and beautiful. They sit close, fingers touching and talk mad shit. 

“James and Erin, I can’t fucking believe they are still going at it. They better be careful, can’t imagine what total dickheads their babies would be.” 

Clare giggles helplessly, bent over. “They would be though. Clare, you know I’m right. Probably pop out of Erin talking about poetry and creep conventions. Fuck.” 

Clare wants to add something witty and clever to this idea, but instead she just laughs, leans over and rests her forehead against Michelle’s shoulder. Michelle doesn’t push her off, lets her nestle in as close as possible. 

“Do you ever think about Orla dating?” Clare asks. Michelle snorts. 

“Fuck I can’t even imagine what that would look like.” 

“Do you think she would date someone as weird as her?” 

“God picture her with someone just like… dead normal?” The girls choke on image, some perfectly polished prick chasing after Orla. “Nah it’d have to be someone like Orla. Whatever that is.” 

“Someone unknowable.” Clare says. Michelle shoves at her, making them both laugh again. They readjust positions, Michelle scooting down until she’s resting her head in Clare’s lap. Clare runs her fingers carefully through Michelle’s curls, happily humming a pop song she definitely doesn’t know the works to.

“Why do you let me touch you?” Michelle finally asks.

“Because I want to touch you back.” Clare’s cheeks are flushed from drinking, but her lips are twisted into a smirk. Michelle doesn’t have a reply ready, just looks up at her. Clare’s fingers care Michelle’s hair line, traces the line of a curl that’s spilled over onto her forehead. She then leaned down to press a soft peck against it. Michelle’s skin vibrates with the touch, the lips imprinted on her. “You kissed just there. And I didn’t get to kiss you back.” Michelle finds the nerve to smile. 

“Not much of a kiss, is it?” Clare rolls her eyes. 

“God Michelle.” But her fingers move down her face and traces along Michelle’s lips. Michelle wants to suck them in, wants to show Clare how good she is with her mouth, how talented she is with her fingers. But Clare pulls back, reaches for the bottle of wine. She drinks the last few dregs, eyes closed. Michelle moves up off Clare’s, props herself up on her elbows. 

“C’mere.” Clare smiles, puts down the bottle. She carefully places a hand on Michelle’s cheek. 

  
“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” They meet halfway, lips carefully touching. It’s barely a peck, the girls’ eyes still open, trying to decide if the other one is serious. 

“Are you doing this just for a ride?” Michelle knows it’s a fair question. Knows how she talks about sex and boys. But there’s sex and boys and then there’s Clare, small and soft and absolutely mad and absolutely perfect. 

“Nah. This one is for real.” Clare pulls back.

“Michelle what does that even mean--” Michelle kisses her, tries to pour all then tension and the need and the goddamn feelings that had plagued her for months. Erin would have all of the words, the words to describe waking up in the morning and think “I want to shag my best friend.” The words to describe, “I want to kiss her when I meet her at the bus.” The words to describe, “I want to hold hands with you whenever we are together.” But who has time for all of Erin’s fucking words. Instead, Michelle just rests her forehead against Clare’s and smiles. And some fucking reason, Clare smiles back, before kissing Michelle again. 

\-- 

It’s a Monday morning this time. Clare is staring longingly at the piece of toast in Orla’s hand. 

“Think of Jamal, Erin!” 

“Oh god not the fucking Africans again Clare!” Michelle comes up behind Clare, brings her fingers up to Clare’s chin and tilts her face up for a kiss. “You know you are gonna just quit come lunchtime.” 

“No Michelle I’m gonna actually do it this time.” Michelle wraps an arm around Clare’s shoulder. 

“Yeah fucking right and James isn’t a fucking prick.” 

“I’m not though,” James protests.

“Come on Michelle, sponsor me!” Michelle groans. She drops her arm as the bus arrives, only for Clare to thread their fingers together. She drags Michelle up the front of the stairs, the two still bickering about Jamal. Erin stares after them.

“What on God’s green earth is going on?”

“Erin did you forget lesbians exist again?” Orla asks. 

“What? No Orla I did not forget that lesbians exist!” Erin prepares for a rant. Orla asks questions. James fails to diffuse the situation. Michelle and Clare hold hands. Not much has changed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly I just always want the loud one and the anxious one to kiss, that is my ideal romantic pairing. I very halfheartedly attempted Irish slang, but I am an American so I didn't want to embarrass myself. Hopefully its not too painful. 
> 
> No original titles, we die using song lyrics like men. (Title from i want to be your friend by girl in red)
> 
> Kudos and Comments much appreciated! Come talk to me on tumblr @broromini.


End file.
